


Gluttonous Omens

by Aris_Silverfin, ArtHistory



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Belly Kink, M/M, and demons who like that sort of thing, belly stuffing, fat kink, gluttonous angels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 19:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19157131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aris_Silverfin/pseuds/Aris_Silverfin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtHistory/pseuds/ArtHistory
Summary: An expansion (pun partially intended) on Crowley and Aziraphale's lunch at the Ritz, featuring rather a lot of sweets. And straining buttons.Aziraphale is a bit of a glutton. Crowley is a fan.





	Gluttonous Omens

**Author's Note:**

> !!!!MAJOR KINK ALERT!!!!
> 
> IF BELLY STUFFING/WORSHIP IS NOT YOUR THING TURN BACK NOW.
> 
> IF IT IS- YOU'RE WELCOME. PUT YOUR FEET UP. GRAB A SNACK AND GET COMFY.
> 
> \-----  
> Special thanks to ArtHistory for letting me drag him into yet another fandom because I could not get these kinky thoughts out of my head. You are the absolute best!
> 
> Special apologies to Sir Terry's Ghost.

It was nice to be back in his own body again. You really did become rather fond of it over the centuries. Settling back in was like sinking into a nice hot bath. Crowley’s body had been… nice. But rather distracting. Too many long limbs to keep track off. And well, he’d missed his little bit of cushion.  
Aziraphale smacked his lips as he set his champagne back down, a hand drifting to his stomach, as he glanced around at the many plates and platters of their next course. There had already been rather a lot of them, and he would be feeling full if he allowed that sort of thing. But one didn’t bother getting full when he was celebrating an averted apocalypse and veritable smiting with his new demonic lover.  
“Dear, you really must try one of these macaroons,” the angle wheedled, plucking one up in his finely manicured fingers and taking a dainty bite. “You hardly touched any of the entrees. It’s a miracle I still fit into my trousers!” He chuckled, because naturally it was mostly thanks to a miracle. Aziraphale had noticed his vessel was just a little altered once he got it back. Crowley had taken marvelous care of it. Not a scratch or mar on his plump pale skin. Just… a little extra here and there. The angel hid a smirk in his next macaroon. He had his suspicions. And a little more than that. His inner bastard egged him on.  
“What with the extra five pounds…”

Aziraphale's body had been...Satan forgive him - Heavenly Soft and round and so deliciously posh. So much to wobble, bounce. Squeeze. He'd scarcely been able to stop himself from going mad with it the first hour they'd swapped. And by that he meant he'd finished up wanking with just enough time to be dragged off to Heaven by the rudest group of people he'd even encountered. And he'd met a lot of French people, just for frame of reference. He also had...well such sessions may have involved a generous amount of takeaway. Grease noodle sliding down his thickened neck, one hand eagerly squeezing, worshipping his angelic gut as he reached for the crab Rangoon the moment he'd finished chewing. Aziraphale's suit, indeed, was a little tighter now. "Sorry I uh-" The Demon took a long swig of bubbly, not bothering to reach out for the nibble, wanting very badly to see Aziraphale eat them all, "Got too in-character" He grinned, cocking his head cheekily at the angel, taking a macaroon now only to bring it to the angel's plump lips.

Ah.  
Aziraphale felt a soft blush rise to his cheeks, making him look downright cherubic. He leaned forward to take the sweet from Crowley’s fingers, making sure to spread his thighs just that perfect amount as he did so. His waistcoat strained around his rounded full stomach. He looked up at Crowley through soft eyelashes.  
“Whatever do you mean?” he asked, a picture of perfect innocence. He sat back with a satisfied sigh, relaxing his stomach entirely into a proper pot belly. He rubbed it idly, making sure to accentuate its roundness. He chuckled, making his belly bounce jovially. “Well, alright, you were there for my brush with Gluttony. Must have left a bit of an impression.”  
The angel gave the demon a very meaningful look. It was bordering on a smolder. “When you found me at that sushi place… what was it called? The one with the little conveyor belt that just kept bringing more plates by and you could take as many as you liked.”  
Aziraphale patted his stomach, eyes fluttering closed as he licked his lips at the memory. He had amassed enough of the tiny plates by the end of it that the workers had had to start picking them up from him to wash so that they could send out more. The entire table had been filled with them, empty dishes stacked atop one another into towers. Crowley had had to help him out of the booth by the end of it.  
“Oh,” Aziraphale sighed, eyes still closed, his toes practically curling. “That was a delightful shop. We must go back sometime.” 

Crowley gulped. Oh Satan, was he whipped. The angel could've asked him for anything. Turn the waiter into a toad. Pull the moon from the sky. He wouldn't even hesitate. No miracle was too big for his big angel. Crowley's heart pounded. "It was alright." He said, redness creeping up his neck, shrugging too fast to be casual, "I remember you refused to let me miracle the button back onto your trousers." He near panted, licking his lips, "Said you didn't want to 'waste one'. I think you..." Crowley tried and failed to catch his breath, "I think you just wanted to waddle out of there with your trousers unbuttoned."

“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped in fake outrage, tone climbing an octave as he tried to mask his delight, “I would never! The indecency! The debauchery of the very suggestion!”  
He pulled another plate towards him, one with a very tall piece of layer cake on it. He didn’t break Crowley’s gaze as he scooped the entire slice neatly onto his hand and ate it in one go, groaning with pleasure, his cheeks bulging. He gasped for breath as he finally swallowed. His buttons creaked as the angel’s belly expanded.  
“Oof, delicious. Oh, I’ll need to miracle myself a wider chair next I expect,” he said, giving Crowley his sweetest smile. “Pass the eclairs?”

Crowley's legs crossed with too much speed to be deigned as casual indifference.  
"Fuck. Whatever you want," He near whined, half begged, grabbing the tray like it was called into his hand and plopping it before the angel with a desperation

He imagined himself getting on his knees, taking and kissing the pack if his angel's plump hand, settling himself between those thick, sinfully spread thighs and pressing his face into the man's ever tightening waistcoat  
Aziraphale had to tug at his collar. It was getting terribly warm in here. And his waistcoat wasn’t going to hold it together much longer. Neither was Crowley by the looks of it. He bit his lip, taking up the platter of eclairs, eyes flicking from them to Crowley. A rather naughty smile curled his lips.  
“Shall we take these to go?” he asked, eagerly. He snapped his fingers and they were at the back of his book shop. “Ahh that’s more like it,” he huffed, spreading his thickened thighs on the plush velvet of his armchair and allowing his stomach to relax even further, the waistcoat riding up as his too tight waist band rode down, taught button up covered belly sticking out between like an especially bitable sausage.  
He selected the first éclair and held it up, demolishing it in two mouthfulls. The next he bit and sucked the chocolate crème from with a soft moan.  
“Fetch me something to drink, would you dear?” he asked. 

Crowley was between those thighs in an instant, hands hovering around, breath hot against that ever-widening gut. A perfect sliver of buttoned shirt was beginning to appear. It wa frankly illegal how perfectly lustful Aziraphale could look with so many clothes on, how- "Yes, yes angel, of course" Crowley said, slim cock tenting his obscenely tight trousers He rose, stumbling into the kitchen, knowing full well he could have just snapped his fingers and summoned... His mind was white hot, staring blankly at all the...everything. Wine? Bubbly? Cream? Cocoa. Yeah.  
Those fingers snapped now, and a perfectly warm, obscenely large mug of hot, rich chocolate was being led over to the demon's lover on a silver tray. He dropped to one knee, offering it up to the perfectly plumped creature

Aziraphale had finished the eclairs by the time Crowley returned and was looking rather flushed. His stomach seemed to tremble. He muffled a belch into his fist.  
“Oof, beg pardon,” he gasped, his voice strained. He took the cocoa and took a careful sip. “Thank you, dear. Now.”  
He raised an eyebrow and pointed expectantly at his lap with his free hand. Then he tipped his angelic head back and began to chug down the cocoa, his throat bobbing, eyes closed. 

"Oh yes! Thank you, thank you!" Crowley whined. His mouth dove in, pressing, flush with the angel's overpacked, gorgeously fattened gut. He snogged it with nothing short of worship, his hands flying to grab, rub, pinch at the angel's more-than-budding love handles. His hands slid to the man's thighs, kneading and rubbing and-

Each swallow strained the buttons further. And further. And further.  
“Ahhh… hurp!”  
Pop. Pop. Snap! The waist coat sprang apart, buttons flying across the bookshop. Aziraphale’s belly pooled into his lap, popping the buttons off his undershirt in kind. A deep soft navel lead the way as the angel’s gut fell out with a soft fwump.  
“Oh fuck!”

Crowley's eyes flicked from slits to the dinnerplates.  
The demon's head flew back as the waistcoat burst open, the undershirt gave way, all that perfect, angelic fat blobbed out into the open air.  
Crowley looked upon it with the rapture a prophet looks at God.  
His mouth was pressed to it without hesitation. Cheek squashing into all that creamy, vanilla pudding. Hands gliding to that lower lip of cream and bouncing it around the stretched organ beneath. So packed. So stuffed. So fat.  
His forked tongue swirled round, then darted into the angel's navel, slowly and sensually toying with it's neat depth.

Aziraphale gasped, moaning, his head lolling against the back of the chair as Crowley worshipped him. God, Satan, the weight of his gluttony, his excess!  
“Oh, oh fuck! Oh fuck,yes!” his fingers wrapped into Crowley’s hair and shoved the demon’s face further into his gut.  
“Ah- th-thought I wouldn’t notice you fattening me up, hmm?” he panted, grinning. “Naughty, Crowley… Ah- ooh fuck I’m-hungh.” He couldn’t resist any longer. He grunted and pushed himself out of the chair, pinning Crowley underneath him and kissing him desperately.

"You're perfect. Beautiful. Endless." Crowley crooned, thoroughly and hedonistically tongue-fucking his lover's navel. He paused, pressing his sharp little chin into the angel's overpacked gut, free hand slipping down to palm his own absurdly tented cock

"What can I say? I couldn't resist." He purred, tongue flicking from his mouth at the last word, so heavy in its "S's"

He yelped as the angel dove atop him, whining, all bravado leaving him as he-  
“Fuck! Oh! Yes!” he begged.

“Neither could I,” panted Aziraphale, the angel’s smile surprisingly wicked. “Now, shall we?”

He snapped his fingers again and they were both disrobed. The angel moaned, feeling his added girth spilling over Crowley’s sides, his hands wandering the demon’s lithe body hungrily, grabbing, squeezing, pressing as much of him against himself as he possibly could.

"Oh I thought you'd just torture me for a while" Crowley grinned. His hands slid quickly to the angel's naked arse, giving it a cheeky wobble till he spread his own legs, wrapping them about Aziraphale's thick thighs and beginning a fast and furious rut, miraculously slicked member eagerly letting off a firework show of pre-cum

“Never that, dear,” Aziraphale purred, allowing a bit more of his soft warm weight to press into Crowley. He gasped as they began to rut. He found the demon’s mouth again and moaned into a voracious kiss, losing himself in the delicious friction, the hot slide of precum, Crowley trembling against him, his own bulk jiggling and shifting with every-

“Oh-oh-oh ah,” Aziraphale came, arching back luxiouriously, open mouthed, wings flashing into view for a moment as he lost the concentration required to keep them hidden. He sighed and stretched, then flopped unceremoniously to his side, his soft heavy belly shining with seed, still pinning Crowley to the rather nice shag rug he had chosen for his study. 

Crowley came the second those wings were out.

The swear. The gut. The wings. His angel's perfect tells of arousal were always more than enough to do him in.

He snapped, and now clean in bed, the demon curled around his angel like the kind of cuddlebug he'd mock at any given time of day (barring when...he was doing the cuddling)  
"Angel" He purred, nuzzling his nose into Aziraphale's pudgy cheek, kissing it lightly  
“Mmm, yes my dear?” Aziraphale murmured, turning his head to lazily return the kiss. He yawned hugely, chin tripling, belly rising and rounding under the sheets for a moment. He sighed happily and smiled at his lover, smoothing his thumb across Crowley’s cheek, admiring those big yellow eyes.  
"...Forgot what I was bout to say" He grinned, using the opportunity of a turned head to kiss the life out of his angel  
"Care for another cup of cocoa?"  
Aziraphale hummed into the kiss then chuckled.  
“Hmm… it’s certainly tempting,” he said with mock thoughtfulness, then broke into a bright smile. He prodded Crowley’s flat little stomach and walked pudgy fingers up it. “I’ll give in. On the condition you have one as well, my slim little serpent.”


End file.
